


Angel's Hallow

by fallfromgraceonmyface92



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Brotherly Bonding, Chef Dean, Chefs, Domestic, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Estrangement, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Food Kink, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Jealous Balthazar, Jealous Jo, Librarian Castiel, M/M, Multi, Sabotage, Writer Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6778021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallfromgraceonmyface92/pseuds/fallfromgraceonmyface92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean loves to cook but working the kitchens at The Roadhouse just isn't doing it for him. When Ellen presents him with a potentially career-changing opportunity, he turns to Angel's Hallow Public Library as a resource to build the perfect menu.<br/>Castiel just moved back to his hometown after 14 years to be closer to his family. Angel's Hallow, Indiana has thus far been a dark place in Castiel's world, steeped in bigotry and alienation. When Dean and his floppy-haired younger brother walk into his scarcely equipped place of employment, that could all change, if the townspeople don't get to them first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

***  
_Dean had just finished plating an order for Chicken Parmesan. He admired his work for a moment; noting the crispiness of the breaded chicken breast, the thick, though not chunky consistency of the marinara,the pasta cooked slightly al dente as per the order, and the mixture of mozzarella and bocconcini cheeses melted atop it all. He quickly added a few slices of sliced tomatoes for garnish and sprinkled a pinch of Italian herbs before tapping the bell alerting the nearest server to pick up the dish. His sous chef clapped him on the shoulder._  
“Dean, have you seen this review?” He asked shoving a newspaper into his hands. Dean smirked and glanced at the proffered print. The headline read 'Chef Winchester Outdoes Himself, Again. 5 Stars out of Five.'  
“You're headed straight to the top, Dean!” __  
***  
“Dean!”  
“Dean, are you listening!?”  
Dean was ripped from his reverie by Ellen snapping her fingers repeatedly. He found himself staring dejectedly down at what had become a Harvelle's Roadhouse specialty, a bacon cheeseburger. A pretty glorious bacon cheeseburger, Dean knew; with fresh lettuce, tomato, onion that he himself chopped everyday, before his shift. He only used organic, grass-fed beef, at first, only because his little brother had badgered him into it but he soon realized that happy cows are tasty cows, morbid as it may be. He used herbs he grew in the window boxes of his apartment to season the meat and the baked and buttered buns. He always served them with hand cut fries with sea salt and cracked black pepper. It was flavorful and immaculate! He was completely bored of it.  
He looked up to meet the deep-brown eyes of his employer and surrogate mother, Ellen Harvelle. She gave him an impatient frown as he sputtered an apology and asked her to repeat herself.  
She sighed and repeated slowly, “As you know, I have a dinner party planned with a bunch of people to do with the business side of this place, later this month, right?”  
Dean nodded for her to go on.  
“Well, I've been thinking about this a lot,” she told him, not without anxiety, “I want to make even bigger changes to The Roadhouse. These people aren't like accountants or anything, they're potential franchisees.”  
His eyes widened in shock. He had thought it strange when she began renovations, weeks before, proposing a new look to pull more customers. She had the tin roofing removed and replaced it with dark green tiles and had larger, picture windows installed along the front of the clapboard sided building. Along with that, she had had the parking lot paved and the bar down sized to make room for more booths. The Roadhouse had been changing around him for months but the menu had stayed the same.  
“It's a party of 25 and it's enormously important to me that they're impressed,” she explained tucking a piece of mousy brown hair behind her ear, “I've got the business side of things covered but there's some details that I need some help with.”  
Dean smiled and patted her shoulder, “that's great, Ell but what does it have to do with me?”  
“The true reason they're going to there is so I can present my business model but it is a dinner party,” she began her eyes falling to her feet.  
Dean looked at her, mouth agape, “you want me to **cater** your dinner party?!”  
“Look, I know it's asking a lot,” she murmured, meeting his eyes. Her gaze softened and she smiled up at him.  
“It's just that Jo's about to be 22 and I've been realizing that I'm not always going to be around,” she offered, “eventually she's gonna marry and have kids and I want to have something other than a dank, old bar to leave behind for her and my future grand babies.”  
Dean rolled his eyes and sighed but gave her an earnest smile, “You had me at 'I know it's asking a lot.' “  
She beamed then and pulled him into a hug, “Thank you, so much, Dean!”  
“Alright, alright,” he expressed with a laugh, patting her back.  
“So,” he inquired as she pulled away, “what's on the menu? The usual burgers and fries and finger foods and crap?”  
She extended a smile full of mirth, “No sir, this occasion requires something a bit more... elegant. Which I, of course, know nothing of. I figured you could plan the menu. Two courses and dessert, you think?” It was Dean's turn to hug Ellen. He lifted her feet from the floor and gave her a spin. She squeaked as he sat her down.  
“Wait, won't we need servers for this thing?” he thought out loud as Ellen smoothed down her hair and recomposed herself.  
“Well,” she uttered thoughtfully, “I'm sure I can convince Jo and Ash. Isn't your brother home from school for the Summer? Maybe he could help, too, along with a couple folks from town?”  
Dean concurred that anything that kept Sam from moping around about his girlfriend dumping him and watching Netflix til 3 am at Bobby's was a good idea.  
With that, Ellen scooped up the cheeseburger he'd prepared and left him to begin the next three orders he had waiting for him.  
He pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialed a familiar number.  
“Hello,” muttered a deep but doleful voice after a few rings.  
“Sammy!” Dean shouted with excitement.  
“What do you want, Dean?” the 22 year old interrogated.  
“So, no pleasantries, then?” Dean joked wistfully, “what time does the library close?”  
Dean's younger brother scoffed, “Is my name google, now? What makes you think I know?”  
“Because you're a giant dork, is what. C'mon, I know you know,” Dean told him with a snort.  
Sam groaned and reported, “they close at 6, today, you freakin' jerk.”  
“Sweet,” Dean sounded triumphantly, opening the refridgerator to grab a bag of chicken breast meat soaking in eggs, “meet me there at 4:30, bitch.”  
“What for?” Sam bemoaned.  
Typically Dean got his more intricate recipes from the internet but this opportunity required more finesse, he couldn't just cook something he found in an article on kraft.com, he was going to need the expertise of the pros.  
He reached up on to a shelf above the stove and grabbed a bag of breading, “I got myself a project, little brother.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was 20 after 4:00 when Dean stepped out the door of The Roadhouse, thanks to Garth. Dean couldn't deny that Garth was a great cook but he swore the guy would lose his ass, if it wasn't solidly attached to him. Dean beamed as he approached his black 1967 Chevy. He pulled the string on the back of his apron as he opened the passenger door, releasing a wave of stale heat. He winced and threw his apron in the seat. He slammed the door and walked around to climb in the driver side. He turned the key and cranked up the air conditioner. Thanks to the Indiana humidity Dean's skin was sticky with sweat in moments as he pulled out onto Arc Street. He turned left after a few minutes on First Street, passing up his apartment instead to make a right turn onto Main Street. He parked in front of the art gallery and walked toward the stark stone building. There he found Sam's bulking figure perched dismally on the brick stairs.  
“Buck up, Bigfoot, you're gonna make it,” Dean declared ruffling the hulking young man's hair.  
Sam smacked his hand away and stood, “so, what the hell did you tell me to meet you here, for?”  
Dean flinched away from one of the massive cat statues adorning each pillar beside the stairs and rolled his eyes at Sam, “Am I interrupting your binge-watching Charmed?”  
Sam gave him a shove as he started up the stairs toward the glass doors.  
He stopped to hold the door open for Sam as he explained, “I'm catering a party for Ellen, she's letting me design the menu and asked me to find some people to serve and crap.”  
Sam gave Dean his most vicious bitch face as he met him inside.  
“And you volunteered me?” Sam demanded incredulously. Just then Dean scanned the library. It wasn't very big at all, so far as Dean could see. Only 15 or so shelves set hodge podge across the wide room. He began to worry about the stock of the library. After a moment his eyes focused on the service desk in the middle of the high-ceiling room and the man sitting behind it, staring at him. He grinned at the man and headed towards him, ignoring Sam, who followed reluctantly.

-

Castiel's day had consisted of, thus far, waking up at 4 a.m. thanks to the baby across the street, standing shivering and wet in the kitchen at 6 am on the phone with Angel's Hallow Municipal to figure out why his hot water was suddenly not working and stepping in mysterious dog poop crossing his yard to his 1978 Lincoln(Or what Gabriel affectionately called 'The Pimpmobile.') It seemed to Castiel that Angel's Hallow was about as glad to have him back, as he was to be here. So when two men walked in, one of which was at least 5 inches taller than him at 5'10 and the other dressed in a greasy AC/DC t-shirt and biker boots, he was weary as all get out.  
The larger one fixed a sneer in the shorter one's direction and inquired haughtily after a moment, “and you volunteered me?” Biker boots ignored him in favor of looking around the library before his eyes locked on to Castiel. He grinned so hugely it nearly reddened Castiel's cheeks as the man approached him, long-haired young man in tow.  
“Hi!” the short-haired man exclaimed slapping a hand on the desk, inadvertently startling Castiel.  
“Hello,” he croaked forcing a smile, “can I help you with something?” The man paused to look at the plastic plaque stating: _'Castiel Novak: Head Librarian.'_  
“Yeah, Cas-Cas-Cast- **I** -el,” The man stuttered with some embarrassment, “I'm looking for some cook books?” Castiel couldn't help but chuckling a little as he corrected, “It's pronounced Cas-tee-ell and we have a few of those, I believe.”  
Castiel was typing in search criteria before he even finished his sentence. He tapped two fingers against the mouse with impatience waiting on the libraries ancient intranet to work.  
“It's showing 5 results, sir,” Castiel said as the titles popped up on his screen.  
“Call me Dean,” his patron said with a snort.  
The taller one smiled genuinely and inquired, “I'm Sam, you're the new librarian, eh? I can't believe Rufus retired!”  
“Yes,” Castiel replied with interest, “Rufus had been head librarian so long as I can remember but he was quite eager to escape the world of late fees and the Dewey decimal system.” Sam chortled and Dean stared blankly between the two of them.  
“Anywho,” Castiel began, “We have Better Homes and Gardens: New Cook Book, Cooking Basics: For Dummies-.”  
“Whoa, whoa,” Dean interrupted, “those are for **noobs**.”  
Castiel tilted his head in confusion, “Excuse me?”  
“What my brother means is those books are for beginners,” Sam explained with an eye roll towards Dean, “Do you have anything more intermediate?”  
“We also have The Essentials of Italian Cooking, Kitchen Confidence and Date Night In,” Castiel provided his ears pinkening at the last option. Dean practically guffawed at the final choice and asked where to find the others. Castiel wrote down the section name and the alphabetical location of each book.  
As he reached to hand Dean the slip of paper, their eyes met. Castiel was caught so off guard, as he could think of nothing, suddenly, but deep granny smith green. He watched as Dean's pupils dilated reducing the emerald irises to thin rings. 'It's so funny,' Castiel mused, enraptured, 'how little you look strangers in the eye. Is it always like this?' After what seemed like a long time, Sam cleared his throat, effectively alarming them both. A stripe of red spread across Dean's nose revealing, what Castiel thought was, a lovely smattering of freckles.  
The green-eyed man turned suddenly and cleared his throat and said in an usually low voice, “C'mon, Sammy,” and trudged away pulling Sam by the shoulder. Castiel watched as Dean walked to the far left corner of the comically barren library to the a tall shelf. The younger man whispered, stifling giggles along the way. Dean simply growled quietly in response.  
Castiel blanched then and forced himself to finish processing the returns from the drop box. He adjusted his glasses on his nose and flipped open the cover of the next crappy Harlequin romance novel. He did his best not to stare as Dean found the books and begin to flip through them. Then they started back the desk and Castiel did his best to appear as though he'd not been preoccupied with his presence.  
Dean did not look entirely satisfied with his selections but appeared to be resigned for the moment.  
“I'll take these,” the shorter man grumbled, avoiding Castiel's gaze.  
“Do you have a library card?” he inquired of Dean.  
Dean looked frustrated for a moment before Sam reached in his pocket and pulled out his billfold. He fished out a card and gestured for Castiel to take it. The librarian smiled and scanned both the barcode on the back of the card and on the back inside cover of each book. He pulled a stamp from his desk drawer and stamped the card in both volumes, “These are due back May 22nd,” Castiel informed him capturing his eyes again.  
Dean smiled tenderly then, “Thanks a lot, Cas.” Then with a nod from both men, they left Castiel to his work and to try to slow the pounding of his traitorous heart.


End file.
